Sky Blue
by Mark of the Asphodel
Summary: It's the duty of a princess to give aid to the poor- soup to fill an empty belly, hope to fill an empty heart.  Caeda of Talys comes face-to-face with the poverty of both body and spirit.  FE11, between the Prologue and Chapter One.


**Sky Blue**

I do not own _Fire Emblem_ or any of its characters.

* * *

_Talys, 603_

"Bless you, Princess."

"Saints praise you, child."

"Bless you, Princess Caeda."

The praise came in a steady rhythm, accompanied each time by the splash of broth hitting a soup bowl. Four times a month, at each phase-day of the moon, Caeda joined her mother outside the gates of the castle distributing soup and bread to the poor. At some times of the year the soup was hare-and-barley, at some times pea-and-bacon or smoked fish pottage- something hearty and nourishing, as it might be a man's only meal that day. Today, it was a soup of almond milk, and Caeda had to fight the temptation to sneak a few of the slivers of sweet almond peeping from the thick pale broth.

Besides being the wrong thing to do, it would burn her fingers. Three of them were already burned from catching the ladle too far down its handle, and her sleeves were spattered with white clots of broth. She ignored the burns and the mess and smiled at each of her father's subjects as they held out empty bowls to be filled.

One boy, some years younger than Caeda, stared down into his steaming bowl of soup for a moment before offering thanks.

"Bless you, Princess. The other six days of the week, it's just Sky Blue and Sinkers."

His mother cuffed him for that, then smiled and offered apologies to Caeda. Caeda wasn't offended by the boy's statement- she didn't even understand it. Sky Blue and Sinkers? She wondered over it long after the boy, his mother, and his half-a-dozen siblings had disappeared into the crowd.

She did not ask her mother, though. Caeda sensed it wasn't the kind of question the Queen of Talys would be able to answer.

-x-

None of the recipe books at Talys Castle had an entry for Sky Blue and Sinkers, and when Caeda asked the cook for some of it- whatever it was- the poor woman responded with a funny sort of laugh, as though the princess had made a very odd jest. This only fired Caeda's curiosity all the more. So, when she came across one of Captain Ogma's men doing his patrol of the castle grounds, Caeda decided to ask him about it. Barst was a nice man, anyway, not at all menacing to Caeda in spite of the heavy axe he carried.

"Barst, I have a question that I hope you can answer."

"I'll try my best, Princess." He raised a dark eyebrow at her, but his voice was soft and even.

"What is Sky Blue and Sinkers?"

"Mm."

Barst took a long moment before he answered, and Caeda sensed that the soldier was trying to find the most appropriate way to phrase things for his princess.

"It's soup, of a sort," he said at last. "A little skimmed milk with a bit of flour and a lot of boiling water. You put a piece of bread in it, and the bread sinks down into the bottom of the bowl, and the milk on top just looks pale blue, like the winter sky."

Skimmed milk, flour and water. Six days out of every seven.

"Thank you, Barst. You've helped me very much by explaining that."

"It's a pleasure to serve you, Princess."

-x-

On the next soup day it was almond milk again, this time thickened a little with flakes of fish. Caeda had asked that the fish be added; the thought of Sky Blue and Sinkers was a sore spot in her mind, the way a burr beneath the saddle was something to drive a pegasus halfway crazy. If someone had watered-down milk to "eat" most of their waking days, at least they should have a taste of fish now and again.

Caeda didn't ask the queen or anyone else why they didn't serve soup and bread to the poor every day. She knew her father's small kingdom couldn't afford the expense of feeding so many people every day of the year... and double that on feast-days.

"Bless you, Princess."

Caeda fell into the rhythm of the soup line- ladle in the pot, soup in the bowl, smile in appreciation, and on to the next. She hoped she would see the little boy from the previous week again, but she didn't. Instead, it was a pair of hands that caught her attention, hands that held a chipped bowl yet didn't belong there among the procession of the destitute. The nails were clean and well-kept, and the fingers, though callused, didn't look red or raw or abused like the hands of farmers or laborers.

Caeda looked up into a familiar pair of sky-blue eyes, and a name formed on her lips... and died there.

"What are you doing here?" Fear kept her voice low.

"I've come to speak with your father," Marth replied. "I saw the line here and decided I might as well fall into it; one way or another, Talys shoulders the burden for my upkeep."

As though the Prince of Altea ought to find himself standing in the soup line! But several score of people were behind Marth, awaiting their own turn, and Caeda forced a smile and sloshed a ladleful of soup into the bowl.

"Thank you, Princess," he murmured. Then he was gone, and Caeda dropped back into the rhythm of soup day. Ladle in, ladle out, never mind the splashes of hot broth on your fingers.

When the last scrapings from the pot were daubed on the last crust of bread, Caeda set down her ladle and went on a dash through the town square, eyes on the hunt for anyone who didn't belong there. Sure enough, she found the Altean prince standing by himself, the borrowed bowl cradled awkwardly in his hands.

"I don't know where to put this," he said to her in place of a greeting.

"We collect them and send them back to the kitchens for washing," she replied. "I thought you had to meet with my father."

"I do, and I'm not looking forward to it." Marth spoke so quietly that Caeda had to come close to even hear him. "I know he's going to trim my household's allowance again."

Marth didn't sound aggrieved by this- if anything, he sounded resigned- but Caeda defended her father nonetheless.

"He has to. The war on the continent has had a bad effect on our trade, Marth. We've lost our key trading partners."

"Yes, I remember that," he replied, and this time there was a trace of anger in his voice. "And don't say my name aloud again, please."

Caeda stared at him- at the mended patches on his pale linen tunic, at the worn leather of his boots, at the glazed bowl he held as though it were priceless and fragile blown-glass. But most of all, she noticed his eyes, and how they seemed to track the people who passed around them. Especially the families... the fathers with their sons, the mothers who walked hand-in-hand with their children.

There was such an emptiness, such a _lack_, in those coldly blue eyes that Caeda realized why Altea's exiled prince would see himself as no better than the peasants who clustered in the square for their one solid meal.

She took the bowl from his hands, then watched as the empty hands curled into fists.

"Follow me, Marth," she said, speaking just above the threshold of a whisper. "I'll take this back to the kitchens... and take you to the person you need to see."

She started walking toward the castle gates. After a moment, Caeda heard Marth fall in step behind her. As they walked, the empty bowl in her hands caught and reflected the light, pale milky blue like the winter sky. The color of nothing.

No, not quite nothing. Just a little trace of color, a trace of life, just enough to get by. And it wasn't enough, but any something was better than nothing at all.

**The End**


End file.
